The Cult of the Cheerful Necromancers
by Adeo83
Summary: A collection of journal entries found on the body of a changeling who died after several unsuccessful attempts at rehabilitation in the Asylum for the Insane of Ostia. This collection was curated by asylum staff and no accurate attribution may be made. A large portion of these stories appear to concern a party of heroes wandering the continent of Izos.
1. The Dinner With No Party

The Cult of the Cheerful Necromancers

_OR_

The Many Ways We Almost Died

A collection of journal entries found on the body of a changeling who died following several unsuccessful attempts at rehabilitation in the Asylum for the Insane of Osia. This collection was curated by asylum staff, and no accurate attribution may be made.

THE DINNER WITH NO PARTY

It was a gloomy morning. The group was just rousing from the previous day's exhausting work in the local fighting pits. Moira, the erstwhile ingenue oracle who joined the group just before their first excursion into the arena, had almost died in the fighting. She was the last to join up with the group back at the tavern, wandering in with a small, spectral owl on her shoulder having spent the night with the guild master of the Silver Mantle inscribing ever more knowledge into her Book of Secrets.

Upon arriving, she overheard Lucian and Thomas discussing a unique invitation that had come into their possession only recently. It seemed to indicate an upcoming dinner party hosted by an aristocrat named Arian Alvidin, and some work involving adventuring. Ever keen to undertake a lucrative venture, Thomas was making up costumes and finery for the group after only mild verbal abuse shared among the fraternal travelers. Moira and Garid, her new familiar, listened and observed, trying to get a better understanding of her new companions.

Lucian was insistent upon bringing his god-touched sword, Heaven's Bane, despite the invitation appearing to forbid weapons of any kind. Thomas, a magic-wielding rogue of Elvish ancestry on his father's side, and eager to get on with it, finally offered to disguise it as a walking cane. He then continued his costume work for the rest of the party.

After a few hours of work for Thomas, and a breakfast of dark beer and slightly stale bread for the rest of them, the party was ready to travel in style. Everything Thomas made for them fit perfectly. They couldn't help but strut when they saw each other and their own reflections. There was a bit of an impromptu fashion show in the crowded tavern. Suddenly, somehow, the prospect of wandering into a dangerous castle with a mysterious overlord administering adventures and bounties seemed more whimsical than worrisome.

Offering his arm to Moira, Lucian led the group out of the tavern, down a few jutting alleyways, and onto the main promenade where he negotiated a carriage ride for four. The dark, lacquered carriage was drawn by two beautiful brown mares. It had black painted wooden lattices across the windows that resembled wrought iron, and behind the lattice were intricate lace depicting climbing vines. It was, however, driven by a veritable urchin with a terribly low accent and the unnerving habit of maintaining eye contact as he periodically spit out the excess juice from his chewing tobacco. Without much chit-chat, he corralled them into the carriage and drove them out of the city, up the hill and onto the estate of the eccentric collector who penned the mysterious invitation.

By the time the manor was on the horizon, the gloomy morning had dissolved into a dismal, rainy afternoon. Peels of thunder periodically roused the crowded group which only fit into the carriage after Nut, the druid in the group, agreed to ride as a ferret. By the time they arrived, dampened by the weather, they all carried the slightly nauseating stench of wet rodent with them. Even the driver winced at the odor emanating from the group while they disembarked. Trying to get away from the stink as quickly as possible, he didn't even wait for a tip – which he customarily would have done with a group wearing such expensive looking clothes. But even for a lad raised in the streets, some smells were just too much. He was back atop the carriage and cracking his whip before the party had a chance to walk up to the guardhouse at the outer wall of the looming estate.

Nut hopped down from Thomas' shoulder and changed back into his human form over the course of a few steps, growing larger with each, and rising to become bipedal. With a final, very ferret-ish, shake to remove fur from his clothing, Nut was in stride with the group and approaching the small guardhouse.

Buffeted by the wind and rain, and distracted by a crack of lightning that split the sky perhaps a little too close to the manor, the guards didn't notice the rogue amongst them. Thomas had gone ahead of the group to survey the potential trap they were all about to enter and lurked lonesome in the shadows. As soon as the guards were blinded by a second shot of white-hot light across the sky, Thomas was past them and well on his way inside the estate proper.

Lucian confidently approached the guards followed by Moira, Nut, and Ferp, a goblin who was as much a part of the party as any of them-at least according to Lucian and his magical, um, walking cane. The guards, noticeably equipped with unused steal, accepted the invitations from the attractive couple and the druid. They exchanged a questioning glance before both of their gazes settled on the short, green goblin who, it should be pointed out, was at this time smiling amiably up at them.

"A close family friend."

Ferp nodded at Moira who placed her hand on his little shoulder while looking at the guards without blinking.

"Indubitably," echoed Lucian who was, at least from the guard's perspective, a particularly stout looking fellow with an oddly wrought steel cane.

One of them opened his mouth to speak but instead paused, squinted, and stood aside, ignoring the imbecilic attempts at small talk Lucian insisted upon making as Moira tugged him through the portico.

Handing over the intercepted invitations, they finally imposed their way into the courtyard of the estate where another guard was waiting to lead them to the dining hall. It was no hall at all, but rather a separate building equipped with its own guard house, stable, kitchen, and guest rooms all elaborately worked over with decorative etchings in the granite façade that covered the entire hall. The panels of the façade depicted scene after scene of battles, discovery, and great games. Clearly, this Arian fellow did not engage in mediocrity.

Thomas, having stalked his way through the shadows, was waiting for the rest of the party. Thomas had a distinctly sinister look in his eyes as he inspected the shocked guard leading the party, but merely said, "What took you guys so long?"

"We don't have your, uh… charisma…" muttered Lucian, interrupting the ambush.

"How did you get so far ahead of us?" Moira chimed in helpfully.

Moira had decided the guard wasn't catching on quickly enough and was about to say something else when Lucian poked her ribs with his elbow rather forcefully. She shot him a searing glance only to be rebuffed by his own placid demeanor. He wanted as little talk as possible, at least when he wasn't the one talking, wanting to be nearer to the wine as quickly as he could get there. Lucian drank when he was unsettled and there was nothing settling about this situation.

"Oh, I have… friends," said Thomas, unconvincingly while indicating the approaching group.

Clearly disinterested in the strange quipping of the new attendees, the guard escorting the group backed away from them, slightly shaking his head, "Yes, please enter. Alfred will lead you to your table and all that…" With a quick about-face, the guard was headed back to the main gate, hopefully, to be dismissed for the evening or at the very least to return with a far less interesting group.

Turning away from the retreating escort, the party saw who must have been Alfred standing at the doorway between two guards who were far more advanced than others in the mastery of the menacing stare. They were silent in their sentry, thumbs hanging from the short swords hung on each hip.

The finely dressed butler between them was advanced in years, his hairline just past his ears. The remaining splash of hair along his nape, as well as his short mustache, was white. He was wizened, but the few age spots on his hands and face spoke to his life of interior service.

"Hello," said the butler who must have been Alfred.

"Table for five," beamed Lucian offering his arm to Moira, who declined it, remembering his most recent ministrations to her ribs.

"You must be the adventuring group Master Alvidin spoke of? Yes?" To his credit, Alfred took in the motley collection of characters without a single thought passing visibly over his face. Even as he paused, for just a second, to take in the short, grinning goblin, he betrayed no signs of revile.

"But of course," intoned Lucian in a poor attempt at some foreign accent which sounded like it had far too many vowels and not nearly enough consonants. The rest of the group, including Alfred, stared at him deadpan.

"Hey Alfred, how are you?" Thomas stepped up beside Lucian and Moira. Lucian inclined his head inquisitively at Thomas.

"Lovely, Sir, and yourself?" Alfred finished a calculation in his mind and announced with a subtle bow, "My apologies. I thought there were to be four of you. I will need to have another chair fetched. One moment, please." Another quick bow and Alfred turned and entered the hall. For a moment, the party was bathed in the warmth and light pouring out of the expansive dining room within. They could suddenly hear laughter, chairs scraping floorboards, spilling wine, curses. These were some very thick doors to have kept all that inside.

Lucian was still tilting his head at Thomas, who replied, "I know every butler. Good people to get information from." Without the time to inquire further, Lucian turned to Alfred, who was now returning to the group from within, having directed a boy of around fifteen with teeth too large for his face to retrieve the extra chair. He blushed furiously as he brushed past one of the beer maids.

"Please, follow me, and I will seat you."

As they followed Alfred into the center of the dining room, each of them stared at another of the groups of interesting guests scattered about the many tables. Lucian was staring, almost proudly, at a Dwarf at the far end of the hall. He had rusty hair with streaks of silver around his face and braided into his beard. He wore a modest doublet which was, at the moment, serving as a depository for the meaded saliva dripping from its unconscious wearer.

Nut was watching a group of men to the right as they watched their friend at a far table trying to impress a young woman. Nut's nose kept twitching slightly and he had, at this point, wiped his hands off more times than was necessary.

Moira was doing her best to read body language, as the halfling man and woman at the table to their left weren't speaking any of the languages she knew. Aside from being a polyglot after years of research in the Temple of Oghma, some of the tongues she spoke were quite esoteric. It was strange that she couldn't understand a word they were saying. They kept her focus as she tried to see the table to which they were being led by Alfred. She muttered an arcane phrase and an iridescent owl appeared suddenly, perched in the rafters above the Halflings and looking as calm as if it had been there the whole time. It was a familiar animal. She had only just learned the spell the previous evening. It was supposed to transmit all it observed to her mind. Garid, as she called the owl, was instead watching a lovely elderly couple at a nearby table. The woman's hand trembled ever so slightly as she was trying to sip her mead and it spilled onto the table. And every time she did, the man's hand would dart out under her cup as she drank, covertly eliminating the evidence of her mortality with his handkerchief.

Thomas, who was trailing the group, had his eyes on a table which sat an Elven couple who appeared to be wealthy. Thomas met the eyes of the male elf and bowed his head slightly. The elf returned the gesture with curiosity. Thomas was half-elven himself and hoped perhaps these Elves might be able to enlighten him about his heritage.

Lucian was watching Ferp tug anxiously at his collar as he waddled at the center of the group. "Everything okay there little buddy?"

"Sure," said Ferp, doing his best to sound like he was enjoying himself.

"Not a fan of the suit, I take it?"

Ferp wanted to say it was no problem. He wanted to be just like the rest of the team. He wanted to be the least bothered by the new clothing and environment in the whole group. You could see his tenacious intent in his eyes as he furrowed his brow and pursed his lips. But he was a little goblin. And he came from a little goblin town. And this was just a little too much for him if there wasn't going to be any fighting to take the edge off his nerves. "It's new for Ferp," was the conversational concession he made, his head drooping slightly.

"Well you look good buddy," said Lucian, smiling at Ferp.

With this, the goblin's mood improved slightly. "Thanks, you too." It was only by a fraction, but Ferp's shoulders relaxed.

Having arrived at their assigned seating, the group stayed at the table just long enough to watch Alfred retreat to his post at the front door before a lavishly dressed man stood in the center of the room and boomed cheerfully, "Hello everyone! Thank you for coming. Dinner is being prepared. In the meantime, please feel free to mingle with each other!" He had rings on almost all his fingers. He had some strange embroidery on the collar of his jacket which was longer than it should have been and made of silk, and rather gave the impression of being a robe. Even his shoes looked more expensive than all the funds the group could muster. Yet he wore no weapons. This must be Arian Alvidin.

The group wasted no time mulling over his instructions. Each of them headed to a different table to investigate this new crowd. They dodged the small group of serving maids heading out of the kitchen, each carrying trays laden with drinks. Thankfully the shortest of the maids was also the deftest, as Lucian nearly smashed into her on his way to make small talk with the beautiful woman who had just sat at the otherwise empty table with the dwarf, apparently hoping for a moment of solitude. Her stare was withering as Lucian asked her about the weather, himself still dripping from the downpour. Ferp stared up at him blankly, hoping they would soon move on to another table.

Moira, used to working crowds to ply gold and secrets from strangers with her painted fortune cards, began friendly interrogations with the guards. She would ask them how they were. Then how work was. What do you do for fun around here? Got anyone special? Ever notice anything weird around here? Ever do anything courageous in this job? She was a natural performer and they each gave her tidbits, although none of it was particularly useful. They all seemed to actually enjoy working for Lord Arian. He seemed to be a generous master with an eccentric flair that managed to stay just-this-side of crazy.

Nut did not look happy to be at the party. He sat silent and withdrawn at the table opposite the sweet old couple. Their sense of smell had long since passed, which was not only a boon for their love life, but it was keeping them from detecting the gamey odor emanating from the strangely twitching young man with antlers who had joined them. It was probably also good that their eyesight had gone years before their senses of smell.

Thomas headed directly toward the two Elves, who did not seem to notice him initially. Thomas made a slight bow and asked, cheerfully, "So, hello friends, how are you?"

"Hello, Stranger," intoned the Elven male, unimpressed with the attempt at companionship from this new, wet vagabond. As he surveyed Thomas from floor to brow, squinting, he continued. "_I_ am Elodin Ahlromain," his tongue trilled with flourishes as he half-sang the Elven name, "Who might _you_ be?"

"I am Thomas." He waited as they regarded him, unmoved. "I had an Elven family."

"Oh, yes?" Elodin's eyebrows were high on his tall face. "Any nobility I would know?"

"I'm not sure. They were separate from the rest of the Elves. They wanted to help _everyone_."

"Hmmm. Interesting," said Elodin, "what were their names? You've peaked my… curiosity."

"Well, the surviving one was called Stephan. Their leader was called Woundhealer."

"Hmmm… doesn't sound familiar."

"It shouldn't. They weren't High Nobility."

"I see," Elodin said with compassion. "Well," he said, turning the conversation, "How do you know Lord Alvidin?"

Thomas lied unflinchingly. "Oh, well he sent us an invitation for help."

"Oh, one of his adventuring projects, I'm sure." Elodin recoiled ever so slightly.

"Yes. Probably that." Thomas smirked. "May I ask where you are from?" Thomas gave a slight bow.

Elodin took a deep breath and grandly pontificated, "I am from Ylsera, the crown of the forest of the same name, to the West." This was no understatement. Ylsera was the capital city of the Ylseran Forest, and home to myriad elves. Thomas had heard tales of its grandeur, of the feckless nobility, of the starving poor in the alleys behind the grand promenades, the guards who allowed thugs to embezzle and extort. How the governors used the city walls as a guillotine, exiling any leaders who opposed them and thereby cutting off the head of any nascent uprisings. Thomas lied unflinchingly.

"Well, from what I know, it is wonderful. The Elves I lived with were from that forest."

"As long as they weren't from Laluna Forest, I'm sure they were grand."

"Yes, yes they were," Thomas said, in memory of his grand friends from Laluna Forest. "So, do you mind if I wait here?" Thomas flashed a roguish smile at the handsome married couple.

"Feel free," said Elodin, his gaze wandering past Thomas to rest on a beautiful woman sitting beside Lord Arian. Thomas sat, intrigued by the two Halflings at the adjacent table, eavesdropping on their conversation spoken entirely in whispered Infernal.

Having found no useful information from the rather handsome guardsmen inside the dining hall, Moira made her way back to investigate the trouble she suspected Lucian must be stirring. By the time she got there, she observed that he was no longer wooing the withering vixen but had instead also fixed his attention on the bored beauty sitting by their magnificent host.

If Arian spared no expense on his entertainment and adornments, it was nothing next to what he must spend on her wardrobe. Her gown shown as if wet from across the room. But as Moira approached, she noticed that it was woven gauze, beaded entirely with the tiniest gems and precious stones she had ever seen. It was sheer but not translucent, and it hugged her youthful body around the waist and thighs, rounded the shoulders in a high, open collar and flowed out from her knees in a small train.

"I see you planned to not be upstaged this evening," swaggered Lucian. How he had managed to drink so much, so fast, was a mystery to Moira. Not many things were mysteries to a former acolyte of the god of all knowledge. But there it was. His cup was empty by the time he sat next to the helpless girl, so he threw it back at the table with the slumbering Dwarf and took one of the cups from the new table and continued drinking.

"Aren't you the charmer," replied the young woman at the head table, smiling but not blushing.

"More like a conveyer of truths," said Lucian, slowly leaning closer and closer to the poor girl.

"Ah hello! I am Arian Alvidin, this is my lovely wife, Mary." Arian appeared to be as surprised as Moira at Lucian's current state, forgiving his forward behavior on sight, but grabbing his hand in a shake and re-adjusting his position on his chair, nonetheless.

"Lovely iz right," Lucian said with a sloppy grin, now facing the center of the table. Lucian had never seen Elven nobility before, and nobody had told him how close their eyebrows would be to the top of their foreheads.

Turning back, Lucian continued, "Hullo Aryan. Howaryew. I yam Lushen."

Moira couldn't figure out what Lucian must have drunk to get his speech so slurred. She almost wondered if someone had spiked his drink. She didn't know why she had this gnawing feeling that something was amiss with their host either. She had a unique relationship with… something. It wasn't a deity. It was just a voice that called to her from the void and guided her. It was the voice that helped her interpret her painted cards. And she felt like it wanted to tell her something, but she couldn't hear it in this crowded, new environment.

"I am well. I'm glad to see my invitations found you all." As he took his bride's hand, Lucien finally relented in his amorous entreaties.

Not realizing the story was already bought, Lucien leaned into the lie. "Yeah… I gessit wusn't too difcult. Bin mayken a name for ourselvzzz," he stammered with overt emphasis.

"Yes. Yes, yes! I've heard many a tale from your group. Quite impressive… Do tell me how you stole that emerald from the crimson dragon's lair. I've heard many variations and would love to hear the truth."

Lucian, looking around the room, and feeling the pressure from the newly inquisitive host, sobered up a bit rather quickly. Maybe he, too, was beginning to get the feeling that something wasn't right. "I figured this was going to be a black-tie affair, but looking around I see quite a bit of armor."

"Oh, yes," countered Arian with a smile, "guards are a must when you have things people want to take."

"Well, see that Elf over there?" Lucian was pointing at Thomas, who was leaned over with the Halflings. "He's quite the thief. He's the real reason we're so successful." Lucian nervously motioned Thomas over, hoping for some assistance in the ruse. Thomas waved back and continued his discussion with the Halflings.

"Ah… yes," Arian chimed with a dismissive tone.

"Thomas! A moment?!"

"Yes, Lucian?"

Thomas sauntered over with a wry smirk.

Lucian and Arian rose as introductions went around, and Thomas more than did his part in assisting Lucian in inflating the reputation of the team. They briefly recounted a recent fight at a local arena, greatly exaggerating their own roles and playing down how effective Moira and Nut had been. They explained that was when the group acquired the _nom de guerre_ 'The Cult of the Cheerful Necromancers.' For the odd name, they gave the solitary druid sole credit.

"Yes, yes, let's sit down while we speak." Arian waved his hand over the wine glasses around and stared expectantly at Thomas. Thomas returned a blank, but friendly, smile. Ferp rolled his eyes.

"This gentleman would like to hear the tale about how you got the emerald from the crimson dragon's lair."

Thomas stared at Lucian. Ferp stared at Thomas. Moira took a seat in Lucian's former position at the Dwarf's table and leaned in to listen.

"Yes, yes, the truth gets so jumbled. I'd love to hear what _really_ happened." Arian winked at Thomas.

"Oh, that?" Thomas paused, composing his thoughts as the Dwarf choked on his drool, coughed a spasm, then gently returned to quiet snoring. "Yeah, that was easy."

"Go on," continued Lucian, rather less than helpfully in Thomas' estimation, "tell 'em."

"Yes, yes, I must know."

"Well… I just… sorta," here, Thomas found his inspiration. "Wore this suit… it lets me go invisible. Wanna see?"

"Yes, yes! Please!" Arian was positively gleeful. "You wear this suit while stealthing around?"

"Well, yes. It lets me hide." And with this Thomas vanished, then re-appeared a step away from his seat.

"Magnificent! So, you go invisible while in the lair. Then what?"

This obviously wasn't going to be as simple as a vanishing trick. But Thomas was undeterred. And his confidence and wine were going to his head a bit now. "Then I stab any monsters! Killing them! Immediately!"

"The dragon had monsters in its lair?" Arian seemed baffled.

"Yes… as servants," Thomas intoned ominously.

"He must have been a smart beast to keep them there. But how did you get the emerald from around his neck?"

Moura stifled a laugh with an unconvincing cough at Thomas's incredulous expression.

"It was smart," agreed Thomas, "but not smart enough to try and smell the ashes it kept by it at all times. I covered myself in those ashes."

"And the ash covered your scent?!"

"Yes, it did. And… I lifted the emerald with magic and then snuck out."

With Thomas nodding, Lucian chimed in. "With my blessing, not only is he a master thief but also an amazing combatant. In fact, he can take any person in attendance tonight in solo combat." Thomas stopped nodding. Ferp was grinning.

"Oh, no need for fighting tonight," said Arian. At this, Ferp slumped.

"This is a time for enjoyment and mingling. And our business of course." He nudged Lucian with a wink. "In all of the tales about you, I don't remember hearing about a Goblin among your ranks. Very interesting to see one as civilized as he." Arian nodded at the little suit Ferp wore.

"How about a bear?" Lucian asked hopefully.

"A bear? You trained a bear?"

"Well, he was trained by our friend," offered Thomas.

"Goblins are not well received in 'polite society,'" offered Lucian, with fingered air-quotes. "He practiced some druid rituals to allow us to move around easier." He placed his hand on Ferp's shoulder. "But he's also a well-established swordsman."

"Interesting."

"The quiet one over there," he pointed toward Nut and the overtly affectionate older couple sitting with him. "He's a master of the druidic arts."

"The horned one?"

"Yes."

"He looks the type," agreed Arian.

"And then to our right," Lucian turned and indicated Moira at the adjacent table, "is our newest addition. She's a teller, of sorts. But skilled in magic combat."

"A wizard among your ranks? _Very_ good."

"Well, I'm off to impress that wench," announced Thomas as he swaggered off in the direction of a delightfully plump brunette.

"Yes, yes. Business is always better with full stomachs. I'm off to chat with my good friend Elodin. Dinner will be served shortly."

Once Arian was out of ear-shot, Lucian asked Moira "Learn anything useful?"

"Nothing really. I can't understand those Halflings. It bothers me." As she was speaking, the male got up, walked over and poked the Dwarf, unsuccessfully trying to start a conversation with him. Even as stout a drinker as any Dwarf must be had succumbed to the drinks offered here. They were… strong. "You?"

"Yeah… I learned I might eat Ferp if dinner isn't served soon."

Ferp, who didn't find that funny at all, went to sit with Moira. Thomas was outstanding in his ability to be rebuffed by his new barmaid. Eventually, he returned to sit with Moira and Ferp. "Anything useful," he asked Moira?

"No. He obviously wants to hire us for an adventure, but he keeps talking to those Halflings in a language I can't understand."

Thomas, somehow, managed to hear and understand Arian speaking with them about some delivery that had been arranged but was delayed. They wanted it from Arian immediately. He, looking increasingly helpless, finally made eye contact with Alfred who announced dinner was served. With this Arian excused himself and returned to the table with Lucian.

Several minutes passed, and no dinner arrived. Lucian eyed Ferp suggestively who snarled back.

Arian motioned for Alfred to come over. "What is the delay?"

Alfred had no response.

"Well, go find out." Arian turned to the group. "Well, with his extra time on our hands, you may as well know. I enjoy collecting oddities from all over. So, I have hired explorers and adventurers who are all over the world, wandering about. One of my hired explorers came back with a tale of some unmapped island. Apparently, it is inhabited by overgrown reptiles – creatures never seen before. I want you to search this island and find out if it has anything… anything interesting."

"Really?" Thomas had one eyebrow raised.

"Define interesting." Lucian had his other eyebrow raised.

"Oh, well… ruins of old civilization, ancient artifacts, magical things, really anything that you've never seen or rarely see. Do you have a map by chance?"

Surprisingly, for a group of "adventurers," none of them did.

"Well, I have one you make take as you have misplaced your own," offered Arian, reaching into one of his sleeves to produce a map, and into the other to produce a filed piece of lapis lazuli. "We are over on the Eastern Coast, as you know. And there are a few islands, but none marked where this island should be." With that, he drew an X on open water.

"Any way to get there?" Thomas asked, hoping transportation had been arranged.

"By boat is your best shot," countered Arian, logically. "But be careful. The island is surrounded by a thick fog. But ships can be arranged any time at the local docks."

"I say we head for the island." Thomas eyed his companions.

"I tend to agree with Thomas. However, we should know what we're doing this for." Moira couldn't shake the ominous feeling she had felt since entering the hall.

"Yes, yes. Payment. Of course! One-thousand gold to make the trip, and extra for whatever artifacts and oddities you bring back."

"Well, I'm in." Moira was ready for food and an end to negotiations.

"_Let's try for more._" Thomas whispered to Lucian as Arian was clapping his hands at Moira and exclaiming.

"Splendid!"

"Extra," asked Lucian as Arian's claps slowed and the relieved expression on his face drooped, "For just handing over artifacts, probably powerful artifacts? Why wouldn't we just keep them? Surely there's a market for these parts."

Alfred returned from the kitchen and whispered to Arian, who turned to the group. "We will discuss this later. Dinner is being served." With this, the serving staff emerged with large trays carrying roasted bar, baskets of bread rolls, dishes of stewed vegetables, cakes, and, most importantly, more wine.

At this, the Dwarf finally roused. He inhaled a slab of meat, quaffed a pint of wine, and resumed his hibernation.

Thomas dug in with equal verve. The table ate and then ordered seconds before resuming conversation, finally sated. Moira noticed something slip out of her bag. On the floor between her and Lucian, a card had fallen. It was face up. As she looked down at it, Death stared back at her. Horrified and distracted, she was frozen.

Thomas, keen to her change in mood, asked what was wrong.

"I see Death." Moira did not look up at first, but she knew what she said didn't make sense to the rest of them. She reached down, picked up the card and faced it to them, showing each of them the sign that had just manifested, confirming her dire misgivings.

"Yes, it's usually killed before it's cooked, darling," Lucian pointed to the boar and laughed at his own joke.

Arian was the only one laughing along with him.

No, Arian wasn't laughing. He was choking. Violently. As he shook in his chair, blood emerged from the corners of his mouth. First in a trickle, but then pouring out, down onto the table. With a peal of thunder, a gust threw itself through the hall, extinguishing all the candles and torches indiscriminately. After a breath, they all ignited again, apparently of their own volition.

As they all blinked, adjusting to the sudden change in lighting, they saw Arian, lying in a pool of his own blood on the table. Veins protruded from his face. Blood still dribbled from his lifeless mouth. And, somehow, a silver knife stuck out from his chest at a table of unarmed guests.


	2. In the Dining Room With a Knife

Mary screamed.

Thomas' hands shot to the hilts at his hips, ensuring that his daggers hadn't been taken somehow to frame the group. Moira stood, energy crackling at her fingertips. Lucian stood and pulled his cane from under the table, holding it like a sword and turning it to face the many unknown guests. Ferp cowered slightly, his eyes darting between Lucian and Thomas, waiting for a cue. Nut stared at Arian's dead body, mouth agape.

A man who must have been the captain of the guard stepped into the room, his ornate armor glinting in the light of torches flanking the serving door he entered. All the color drained from his face as he stared at Arian's macabre posture. "My gods…" He gathered and positioned himself over Mary's left shoulder, searching the faces of his guards with indescribable fury.

Wasting no time to survey the shocked expressions of the bewildered diners, Moira shouted.

"Get Alfred! We need to ask him what he knows about these guests."

A moment of eye contact was shared between Lucian and Moira and he vanished, leaving wisps of iridescent mist in his wake. He reappeared almost instantly next to Alfred, who still gave no sign of surprise. The guard on the other side of Alfred gave Lucian a suspicious look, growling, "Nobody's goin' nowhere till we sort this out."

Nodding at the guard with a smile, Lucian placed his hand under Alfred's elbow and gently escorted him to the bloody table.

"Does anyone have an explanation for this?" The assembled nobles and travelers stared back at Moira in disbelief. All of them except the Dwarf. "Is that Dwarf alive?" Moira's voice was pitching up as she contemplated a second corpse. She looked to Thomas who gave the Dwarf a mighty slap on the chest.

The Dwarf stood up and immediately took two fearsome swings at the air in front of him, owing only to Thomas' quick evasion. "Git off me you no good—" His voice cut off as he turned and saw Arian lying dead just feet away from him.

Nut was leaned over his body, humming an incantation and passing his fingers over the body, the food, and the knife. Alfred shifted uncomfortably at this breach in formality. "His food was poisoned. And the knife was… enchanted with something that acted like a poison." He paused to smell the blood he was rubbing between his fingers. Before he could continue his forensic suppositions, the man who had been talking to the beleaguered woman when they entered stood.

"Now wait a minute. Why the hell are you all suddenly in charge?"

Irritated that he hadn't spoken up until now, Moira countered, "Nobody else seems to be."

"Yeah, I mean if someone else has any amazing ideas, bring 'em forth," Lucian chimed.

"Excuse us for being shocked at our friend's death." He was unpleasant to behold. His teeth were stained and chipped in several places, and he put them on full view as he spoke with exaggerated pronunciation. The patches of his face not pockmarked were heavily weathered. His hair was silvering, but in an unflattering way. His voice was pure gravel, and his armor smelled of wet horse.

"Who are you?" Moira's tone was noticeably icier.

"Martin." He replied with a grin, raising his eyebrows. "Who the hell are you lot?"

Deciding now was not the time to explain the acquisition of the group's ironic name, Moira responded without hesitation or flourish. "We are adventurers hired by the late master." It was true, even if Arian didn't know they weren't the adventurers he had initially invited.

"So," Martin shifted his mangled face into something that was like a smile but was clearly not meant to express joy, "a group of wandering people he doesn't really know. I see."

"Perhaps," Moira didn't like to lie, but she wasn't oblivious to the need for it at times. "But he knew us well enough to bring us here before his untimely death."

"I am Lucian Light-hammer of House Helm. If I wanted this man dead, my sword could have done that. Not a problem. No need for these theatrics."

"And I could have killed him before you all got here." Thomas had appeared out of nowhere and whispered into Martin's ear over his right shoulder.

Nonplussed, Martin turned to stare at Thomas' eyes. "You say that now, but it's just your words. No proof." He shrugged. Thomas grimaced at the man's breath and rejoined the group.

"Well, since you know him so well, you would know his enemies." Nut looked positively feral standing over a fresh corpse with his bloody hands and his leather druid's robes decorated with bones and roots, his antlers framing his figure. His voice was flat as he stared Martin down. Almost anyone gazing upon him in this state for the first time would have been intimidated into compliance. But Lucian of House Helm had a way of ruining things.

"Mossy has a good point," he offered unapologetically.

Martin rolled his eyes at the paladin's impromptu nickname. "Awful lot 'a talk about potential murder." His eyebrows arched.

"Potential?" Moira's eyebrows arched higher. There was clearly a dead body. This was no time to question her expeditious interrogation.

"Yes. Look around sweetheart. There's a lot of talk right now about you and your mates committing a potential murder."

It did seem suspicious that they were all splattered with blood at the same table as a dead man. And Thomas and Lucian were only making things worse.

Hands in the air, innocently, Tomas clarified, "I'm just saying we could have done it. It's not like we were going to kill a man who was going to pay us."

"Yes," Nut took Thomas' lead, "We were going to get paid to work for him. We wouldn't throw a chance like that away."

"And who are you?" Lucian had enough of this defensive stance. "What's your story?"

"I'm Martin, as I've said," he swept a hand behind him to indicate his group of friends, still at their table each of them with hands on hilts. This was not a handsome group of men. They did not appear to possess any gentleness. Martin continued calmly, "We adventured with Arian years back."

"Aha. So maybe he didn't pay you everything you wanted?" Lucian looked from Martin to his cohorts and back searching for confirmation. "Maybe you had some deep-seated hatred?"

"Nonsense."

"Is it? What proof do you have?"

"You can ask anyone," Martin growled, "but stop staring at me and do something if you're going to do it."

Lucian and Martin, locked in a death stare, looked like two stags about to charge. There were scrapes and creaks as the heavily leathered men at the table behind Martin rose to assume offensive stances. Several of the guards took a step towards the men, but the captain stopped them with a grave shake of his head and a warning glance.

Was this really all going to fall apart because two hot-headed sell swords couldn't manage an interrogation? Moira hadn't traveled all this way in the rain with a wet rodent and a new group of travelers just to see a murder and leave with no answers. She was a Seeker, after all. She was one of the un-cloistered acolytes of her order, roaming the world pursuing any knowledge she may. She would have another night of insomnia if she didn't get some answers soon, and neither Lucian nor Martin seemed like they were about to be helpful. "Alfred! Please help us deal with this man."

Everyone stopped and stared at Alfred. The poor old man had no idea why he had been invoked, but years of service had rendered him nearly incapable of refusing a request, "Yes?"

Moira took a step to him and took his hand in hers, looking deep into his eyes. "We need to hear from someone who actually knows what is going on here. Alfred, of all the people in this room, who do you trust the least?"

Alfred flushed hotly as he stared at the floor between him and Moira for a moment. He returned her gaze with resolve, "Shall we talk privately?" He indicated the doorway that lead to the kitchen with a graceful gesture.

"Yes," Moira felt nearly giddy to finally have assistance but maintained her composure, "but please ensure that the guards keep the guests here until we identify the culprit." Alfred shared a moment of eye contact with the captain, who settled into his post with a grunt indicating his compliance.

Moira entered the kitchen with Alfred in tow and heard a clatter as a surprised Dwarven woman turned around and made an awkward attempt at a curtsy. At least, Moira thought it was a Dwarven woman. Her bust was quite massive. Then again, her little blond mustache and beard made one wonder. Moira had never spent much time around Dwarves but had to assume that the men didn't curtsy, or at least that if they did they would have the presence of mind to do it better than that. She returned a perfect curtsy to the floor and gave a little bow as she smiled back at the cook who, by the looks of things, had never been the recipient of a curtsy before.

"Yes, Grumly," said Alfred as he repressed a frown and performed nearly acrobatically to get around Moira's sudden curtsy in the doorway without touching her. "There's been something terrible. You'll need to head to the dining room."

Also not accustomed to entering the dining room, the short woman managed to make her surprise look surprised. Moira couldn't help but think the poor, dazed Dwarf had no idea what shock really was, but would soon enough. It took a few moments before they heard her stifled cry through the kitchen door, but once she assessed the situation outside, Grumly was stricken with grief.

Returning to the grim work at hand, Moira peered up into Alfred's tired eyes. "Do you know anyone who might have wanted Arian dead?"

After qualifying that he was only willing to answer these questions because of the improbability involved in them committing the murder, and after assuring his loyalty to his late master, Alfred reluctantly began to parse out information on the assembled guests. Some of it they had already surmised, like the Dwarf in the dining room having a bit of a fondness for spirits. Some of it was new, like the fact that Elodin was hopelessly in love with Mary, Arian's wife.

"He does have a hot wife," Lucian opined haplessly. Moira snapped him out of his reverie with a sharp elbow to the side. "Yep, didn't mean to say that… did not mean to say that."

Alfred continued with the rest of the information that he had to offer, and it became increasingly clear that there was something off about those Halflings. But there was a more immediate suspect to deal with.

"I have an idea," Lucian offered as he threw his head out of the kitchen doorway. Moira and Alfred exchanged slightly confused glances as a perturbed Elodin strode in.

"Alfred, what is all this about?" Elodin was wide-eyed as he demanded information from the bowing old man.

"Well, we were just wondering," Lucian said while putting a hand on Elodin's shoulder, "why you killed that man out there. I'll even help you out of this mess if you just let us know why."

Elodin recoiled as he retorted, "Absurd that you would even think me capable! And help me out of this mess? What kind of a person are you?" Elodin shot Alfred a seething glance.

"It was a test, and you passed." Lucian was smiling, feebly, but Elodin was not.

"He's brash and uncouth, and I apologize for him. Please help us find who did this," Moira begged in an attempt to quell his fuming.

"I haven't the slightest idea."

Lucian smiled again. Lucian's smiles were quickly becoming something that alarmed Moira more than comforted her. Once again, he stuck half of his body into another room, and once again his head returned with a different person. Lucian then unceremoniously ushered Elodin back out of the room. As the door swung open just long enough to accommodate Elodin's body, they could hear Martin trying to blame Arian's death on poor Ferp. "It was probably the bloody Goblin they've got running around."

After Lucian and Thomas exchanged an odd-looking whispered discourse, Moira and Alfred followed them back out into the dining room. Thomas' finger shot out as he approached Arian's body. "I think I see something."

While she couldn't see how, Moira was pretty sure Thomas had conjured the spectral doppelganger of Arian now hovering above his body. Mary, looking as if she were about to faint, fell into Elodin's arms. He glared at the ghost.

Most people in the room looked shocked. Some looked offended. The two Halflings looked bored.

"My fellow friends…"

Arian's voice sounded off… maybe it was the fact that he was dead. But something just did not seem right about Arian's ghost.

"I have come to tell you that I am only here for the guilty. The innocent are safe…"

Several people in the room began eying others in the place with a kind of galvanized suspicion that made them look almost convinced of something.

I know who killed me, but I give them a chance at a pardon if they stand now.

There was no movement in the room.

"Then the killer must pay the price. They shall lose everything and everyone they love in a terrible and painful manner."

As it said this, the ghost turned toward the Halflings, hurling itself towards the male and disappearing into him with the final word. Nobody in their right mind should just sit there as unconcerned as this Halfling was with an accusatory ghost colliding into them. But, there they both were, eyes blank with apathy.

The Cheerful Necromancers began interrogating various guests. Through a heated exchange with Binwin, the seemingly narcoleptic Dwarf, they discovered a replica of the dagger used to kill Arian. It wasn't Dwarven, and it wasn't local. It was undoubtedly fine craftsmanship, but also eerily unfamiliar. After some gruff answers, the Dwarf had convinced the group that he wasn't involved and that the dagger had been placed on him without his knowledge. People tend to open up as they drink, and Binwin had downed enough spirits to stall a team of bison. The group just didn't believe he was in any state to maintain a complicated series of lies.

Further evidence of the blatant romance underway between Elodin and Mary continued to abound. Several guests were becoming increasingly perturbed by the constant interrogation of the group. Hours into the investigations, they were no closer to discovering the identity of the killer then they were at the outset.

Thomas saw Nut, never easy to predict, suddenly cock his head to the side, walk off, and whisper to a guard. The guard slowly pointed towards the kitchen as confusion crossed his face. As he crossed back across the dining room passing the rest of the Cult, Nut muttered in a whisper that only Thomas heard, "If you've got a better idea then speak up now before I kill us all…"

Ignoring the hyperbolic druid, the group decided it was time to ask the more obvious questions. If Mary was having an affair, maybe she had a hand in the conspiracy. Lucian whispered a prayer, his brows furrowing with intent, and waves of warmth began to cascade away from him, washing over those around him. Moira had never seen this magic before, never felt it before. Nobody in the group knew yet that she was a changeling. She knew she couldn't tell anyone yet. But she kept feeling subtle hints that maybe now was the time to tell the truth about it all. She couldn't determine why yet, but she was sure that as long as she remained close to Lucian's magic, she would not be able to utter a falsehood.

"Mary."

She froze as Lucian spoke her name. He looked determined, not breaking eye contact with her.

"Why did you want him dead?"

There was a moment of silence in which Moira wondered if Mary was somehow able to refuse Lucian's magic. She saw Mary break her gaze with Lucian as she drew her hand to her chest. She opened her mouth to speak as Elodin stepped in front of her.

"I poisoned him, alright? I put it on his plate in the kitchen. But I have no idea where the knife came from."

"Why would you poison your friend?" Moira hadn't had many friends in her life and couldn't imagine killing one.

"So that I could finally be with Mary." Elodin's tone was defiant. Discord settled on his brow as he hesitantly continued, "And so that we could live off of her inheritance from Arian."

"So it wasn't for love, but for money?" Thomas could understand that.

"Love and money are both nice."

"Well, you seem decent. I could make sure everyone forgets and thinks he died of a heart attack."

"As kind as that offer is, Arian died by stabbing, not by poison. So I'm still in the clear as far as I'm concerned."

"Both the food and the blade were poisoned," offered Nut helpfully as he maneuvered a large barrel through the kitchen door and laid it on its side to roll it.

Lucian was staring furiously at Elodin. Helm was the god of righteousness, of justice. What Elodin had done to a friend demanded to be revenged. He was reaching for his cane.

"Lucian, it was for love, they should go free."

Nut nodded his agreement with Thomas as he rolled the enormous barrel past the tight knot of interrogators and suspects.

"So when you poison someone it isn't actual murder?" Lucian's fury was making his voice quiver slightly.

Elodin shot back with more umbrage than was his share in the present moment. "Not if they die to do a knife in the chest."

Moira, who had been silently reaching out to her deity, came to a conclusion and pushed her thought into Thomas' mind. The group was running out of time to find the real murders, and Lucian's distraction was going to take longer yet. _We need to question the Halflings._

Sure, Thomas replied in kind, S_peak to them. They're weird little things._

Moira didn't realize Thomas could also communicate telepathically, but she didn't have time to ask about that yet. I don't speak Halfling.

"Leave Mary and me alone. You've taken enough from us tonight." Elodin took a step towards Lucian.

_Oh, I can speak to them._ Thomas looked at Moira waiting for her to respond.

Moira was determining how best to explain her unique relationship to her deity who was no deity and really just a voice she followed. But the voice was REAL. She knew she wasn't crazy. But would he? _Thomas, it's hard to explain but I have a guiding inner voice, and right now it isn't very clear. But I have a feeling like we need to speak to them._

Lucian's fingers were gripping his cane. His eyes lifted as he silently prayed for discernment of Helm's will in this murder.

_We should definitely speak to them. They threatened to hurt him bad earlier if he didn't deliver something immediately. Sounded bad._

Moira could have torn a hole through Thomas with her stare.

_Did he deliver it?_

_No._

How had he failed to mention this before now? They were obviously the culprits. But now they had no way to apprehend them. The questioning with them had gone terribly. All they could do now was hope they were right and attack them and hope they would be more forthcoming while under arrest. If it didn't go well, they were all going to be slain by guards.

There was a loud pop as Nut removed the largest cork Moira had ever seen, and oil began pouring out of the barrel hole. Nut sat on top of the barrel, now positioned a few paces from the main entrance to the hall. As he searched his pockets, the pool of oil spread out, quickly ducking under the surrounding tables and chairs.

One of the guards took a step towards Nut, who finally fished a box of flint and tinder out of his pocket, held one hand up towards the guard. "As long as everything goes according to plan, there won't be any fire." The guard was entirely without words and continued to stare at Nut suspiciously.

_We need to take the Halflings._ Thomas nodded as he and Moira turned towards the Halflings behind them. _I'll attack the female, you attack the male_, Moira instructed.

"Alright!" Nut had finally lit the tinder with the flint and was using it to ignite a small, oil-soaked, wooden fork which was about to be a tiny torch. Nut smiled as he turned to look over his shoulder, finally ready to reveal his plan to literally smoke out the criminals.

He turned just in time to see Moira and Thomas turn away from Lucian, Elodin, and Mary. Moira's eyes squinted and crackling beams of purple energy shot from her hands as she held them palms-out towards the Halfling woman. Watching Moira, Nut hadn't noticed Thomas pull a crossbow from his shoulder and fire a bolt at the Halfling male. The bolt flew so fast that it landed before Moira's attacks.

The captain behind Mary rushed toward the Halflings to assess the damage.

Over Moira's shoulder, there was a blinding flash as Lucian's cane revealed itself to be, in fact, a magical sword. Mary screamed as his blade crashed through Elodin's torso in a slash of light, completely decapitating her last living lover. Two guards nearest Lucian began to move towards him.

The Halflings began to laugh. It was deep, hellish laughter that echoed throughout the hall. The female stood, and her flesh began to fall away from her body like a silk gown. As her skin parted, a giant demoness stepped out of the pile of human detritus and stared at Moira, who had no idea how a Halfling's body had contained such a large demon. "You shouldn't have done that." Her voice was deeper than any man's.

The captain stopped, horrified.

At her side, the Halfling man's head shot back as two, slimy, moss-colored hands reached out from within his mouth, pushing his jaw away from his skull. His body twitched all over, his fingers going akimbo. Blood poured down his torso as a sickening rip finally dislodged his jawbone. An imp climbed out of the maw and took its place next to the demoness as the second Halfling corpse hit the floor.

Nut couldn't believe them. It always ended like this with his friends. They were just attacking random folks. He sighed as he slid off the barrel, abandoning his grand, unattained scheme. He extinguished his impromptu torch with a furious gesture and prepared himself for whatever was about to happen.


End file.
